


After-Hours

by TheNightWeaver



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Enthusiastic Consent, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Workplace Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:26:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22288612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNightWeaver/pseuds/TheNightWeaver
Summary: Martin and Tim are the only two left at the institute, checking references for Jon well into the night. Things then take an unexpected yetverywelcome turn.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Tim Stoker
Comments: 12
Kudos: 242





	After-Hours

**Author's Note:**

> Alright lads, here we go. This is my first attempt at smut and I'm pretty proud of it. I might do another fic in this verse but Who Knows. It was very fun to write, ngl. If there's anything else you think that I should add to the tags, lemme know.
> 
> I hope that you like it!

They were at the institute when it happened. It was an accident, really. Martin had been doing his best to not be affected by Tim’s flirting—Tim flirted with everyone, it didn’t mean anything, no matter how much Martin wished it did.

Jon had actually gone home early for once, a damn miracle, and Sasha had taken off for a doctor’s appointment. That left Martin and Tim to pull up ancient references, scouring document storage for anything even remotely relevant to the statement Jon was working on. It was late but Martin didn’t have any real reason to go back home to his flat. He didn’t know why Tim was still there, but Martin wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

It had all been going fine, even if the work was a bit dull. It was just the two of them poring over document after document, the quiet only broken by the occasional “Hey, have you seen something like this?” or “Oh, this might help”. The whole thing was strangely relaxing in some way.

Martin had just re-shelved another pile of useless documents and was heading over to try his luck on the other end of the room when his feet got tangled and he tripped. Right into Tim. Martin braced for the two of them to go tumbling into the ground.

They didn’t though, because apparently Tim had both the cat-like reflexes and superhuman strength to catch and stop Martin from crashing into the floor head-first.

And that was how Martin was in his current predicament—a hair's breadth away from being pressed up against Tim Stoker while the two of them were alone in a dimly lit room and Tim’s hands resting on Martin’s shoulders.

Neither of them moved. Christ, why didn’t Martin move? Why wasn’t _Tim_ moving? Why were the two of them just staring at each other? Martin was sure that he’d die of embarrassment before the night was out at this rate.

Tim’s gaze was scanning over Martin’s face, looking for something that Martin couldn’t even guess at. Apparently he’d found it, though, because Tim’s mouth quirked up into a quick smile before he leaned forward, his face close enough that Martin could feel its warmth and the brief, ghosting brushes of skin against skin.

“I think I’d like to kiss you,” Tim whispered against Martin’s mouth.

Martin couldn’t help the soft gasp he gave at that, Tim’s breath warm against him as he inhaled the words. So. The maybe the flirting _had_ meant something, after all.

Martin exhaled shakily and canted his head down ever so slightly so that his lips fluttered against Tim’s once again. When he spoke, his voice trembled. “Please.”

Tim grinned, a pleased and ravenous thing that left Martin’s knees weak and had his hands shaking. “Now how could I resist when you beg so prettily?”

Martin couldn’t help the moan he let out when Tim’s mouth crashed against his. Tim swallowed the sound greedily and started moving forwards, Martin moving back as he did so. In short order Tim had pressed Martin against the wall, leaving him pinned between stone and Tim’s strong, warm body. Martin’s hands scrambled against the wall, desperately trying to find purchase so he could ground himself to something, _anything,_ as Tim kept kissing him like that. Without any real conscious thought, he found his hands haltingly reaching up to grab at Tim’s shoulders, bunching the fabric of his shirt into fists. Tim’s tongue brushed his lips and Martin opened for him instantly. He was helpless to do anything but cling and feebly kiss back as Tim threatened to _devour_ him.

Tim shifted slightly and Martin found himself pulling back, worried that he’d somehow buggered it all up, their mouths breaking apart as he did so. But no, Tim was sliding a leg between Martin’s own, his thigh pressing hard and hot against Martin’s cock even through the layers of their clothing. Martin’s head fell back against the wall, breath coming out in hot pants at the contact. He did his best to stifle a whimper when he felt Tim’s hands sliding down from his waist to his hips and down further still until Tim was grabbing at his arse with both hands. He practically mewled when Tim _squeezed._

“This okay?” Tim asked, his breath hot against Martin’s neck.

“Y-yeah,” Martin gasped out. “I-it’s good. It’s r-really good.”

Martin groaned as he felt Tim lay an open-mouthed kiss against his bared neck, a gentle brand of heat sinking into his skin. “What do you want me to do, Martin?”

“I-I d-don’t—I—”

Tim shushed him sweetly, kissing his neck again. “It’s okay, it’s okay. You liked it when I said I loved your begging, yeah? Is that what you want, Martin? Dirty talk? Praise? For me to let you know just how much I love those pretty, _wrecked_ noises of yours? How much it turns me on to hear that? How you’re being such a _good_ boy for me?”

Martin was helpless to do anything but squeeze his eyes shut and nod as he felt fire spread across his face.

He felt more than heard Tim chuckle against his throat. “Now that’s a _lovely_ look on you. Do you have any idea how hard that face of yours is getting me right now Martin?” Tim rocked against him and Martin felt himself grind down onto Tim’s thigh in response, heat and pressure coiling in his stomach. “How much I’d love to bend you over your desk and fuck into you until you’re screaming? Or lay you down and ride you until you can’t remember anything but my name and how I feel around you?”

One of Martin’s hands—he was too far gone to remember which—flew to his mouth to muffle the sob that tore itself from his throat. He could feel Tim’s hardness rubbing against his own thigh and did his best to thrust against it, desperate to make Tim feel even a fraction of the molten pleasure that was lighting every last nerve on fire.

“No, don’t do that,” Tim _cooed,_ one of his hands winding around Martin’s wrist as he spoke. “You have such a nice voice. And how are you supposed to answer me if you won’t let yourself make any noise? No, I don’t think that’s going to work.”

Tim began to gently tug away Martin’s hand from his face. It would be easy to resist, to yank it back so he could cover up the pitiful sounds coming from his mouth. Martin knew that Tim would let him, no questions asked.

Martin whimpered when he felt Tim press his wrist against the wall above his head.

“There we go.” Tim was still so _close,_ hot air fanning against Martin’s neck every time he spoke. “Now we can hear you properly. Isn’t that better?”

Martin just panted, still rubbing against Tim’s thigh. He let out a high, keening sound when Tim pulled his thigh back, all of its wonderful warm pressure going with it.

“I asked if this was better, Martin,” Tim said. His voice was breathy and unsteady. “Can you give me an answer, sweetheart? Let me have some feedback.”

“I-it’s better,” Martin gasped out. “S-so much b-better. P-please let—let m-me—”

“Let you what, Martin? Rub against me like some needy little slut until you come in your trousers? Or do you want me to get on my knees for you and suck your cock until you can’t even think?”

Martin choked to take in any gulp of air he could. Martin shook his head. “I-I—T-Tim—no—I—”

And just like that, Tim was pulling back, his already loose grip on Martin’s wrist going completely slack and leaving a few inches of space between them. When he spoke, it was closer to how he usually sounded, the honey-sweet seduction completely gone. “No? Did I go too far? Do you want to stop or—?”

Martin’s hands scrambled around to Tim’s shoulder blades and pulled him flush against him. Both of them moaned as they brushed against each other. Martin managed to find his voice after a few more moments. “N-no, I don’t want—don’t want to stop. A-and you’re fine—great, actually. Fantastic.”

Tim let out a sigh of relief against Martin’s shoulder. “Okay, that’s awesome to hear. But then, what were you…?”

Martin swallowed thickly and nuzzled his cheek against Tim’s, leaving their faces pressed together as he spoke, feeling his skin slide against Tim’s. “I-I think that I. Um. Wh-what you said, it’s good. But I—I really want to, uh.”

One of Tim’s hands found the small of Martin’s back and drew small, comforting circles through his shirt. “C’mon. Tell me.”

“I-I want to. S-suck you off. Please.”

Martin heard Tim’s breath hitch and felt Tim’s grip on him tighten. Tim pulled back just far enough to let his lips graze against Martin’s cheek. “God, you’re—fuck, Martin. That sounds—yeah. God, you’re so fucking hot.”

Martin jolted, Tim’s words going straight to his cock and making him throb. “H-how—?”

Tim’s arms wrapped around Martin’s waist and suddenly they were moving, Martin’s back coming off of the wall and his vision blurring with the movement. In only half a second, Martin found himself with his head buried in the crook of Tim’s neck and Tim with his back pressed against the wall. Martin took the opportunity to press open-mouthed kisses over Tim’s throat, breathing hard and hot as he did.

“How’s here?” Tim asked, one of his hands coming up and threading his fingers through Martin’s hair. “You wanna kneel for me?”

Martin whimpered, legs shaking and moments from giving out. He nodded against Tim before slowly sinking down to the floor, sliding down until his knees knocked into the ground. Tim’s hand was still in his hair, its grip stronger than before but still no more than a gentle pull against his scalp.

Martin hadn’t realized that he’d closed his eyes until he opened them.

Tim’s crotch was right in front of his face, cock straining obviously against his trousers mere centimeters away. Martin felt his mouth begin to water. He brought his still-trembling hands up to undo Tim’s button and zipper. He knew he was being clumsy at best, knocking into Tim’s erection, movements utterly devoid of grace. Tim didn’t seem to mind though, if his quickened breaths and faltering sighs were anything to go by.

Martin’s breath was coming out in heavy gasps when he finally managed to slide Tim’s trousers down to reveal Tim’s pants. They were a soft grey cotton and tenting obviously, the outline of his cock plainly visible. Martin took another gulp of air before he surged forward, mouth hanging open against the fabric of Tim’s pants, pressing against his erection. He breathed hot and heavy through the thin layer of fabric before sucking lightly.

Tim let out a muffled curse and his other hand finally joined the one in Martin’s hair. Martin pressed his tongue into the fabric covering Tim’s cock in response, unsure if he was imagining the faint taste of skin alongside the cloth as he did.

“F-fuck, _Martin_ ,” Tim huffed out. “You’re doing g-great. _Christ,_ I am _never_ letting you go after this.”

Martin moaned, Tim’s hips bucking forward haltingly as the vibrations went through his cock. Martin could hear Tim gasp for air, could perfectly imagine Tim’s chest heaving in time with the sounds. Martin whined pitifully as Tim pulled him back, trying to press forward again.

“Much as I love this—and I _really_ fucking love it,” Tim said, voice steady but far from unaffected, “I think I’d love that mouth of yours on me without anything in between. That sound good to you, sweetheart?”

Martin nodded in short, frantic movements, hair pulling against Tim’s fingers in a way just short of hurting that had his arousal burning even hotter inside him.

“Good, good. Can you take my pants off for me, Martin? Show me more of how wonderful you are for me?”

Martin didn’t have the space inside of him for shame at the way he pawed at Tim’s briefs, not while he was being filled with the fierce heat of his own lust. The world around him felt like molasses, thick and heavy and sweet and sticky, clinging to his skin and forcing the air from his lungs.

After far too long—after an eternity, Tim’s pants were down and his cock sprung free, red and full and leaking. No force on Earth could have stopped Martin from pressing his mouth against it and suckling harshly at it. Tim cried out and his hands balled into fists in Martin’s hair. Martin couldn’t have asked for a better reward.

Martin ran his tongue up the length of Tim’s cock until his face was pressed into Tim’s crotch, inhaling the heavy musk of his arousal.

Praise was spilling from Tim’s mouth like a river, cut-off “sweetheart”s and breathy “fuck”s and reverent “ _Martin_ ”s. Martin squeezed his eyes shut, his heart pounding mercilessly against his ribs. It was too much, threatening to burst him wide open in the best way possible.

Martin pulled back, panting heavily over the head of Tim’s cock as he desperately tried to catch his breath.

“Doing so fucking good,” Tim gasped out. “Never had someone this hot sucking me so good before. You’re a goddamn gift Martin, my god.”

There was no way that Martin could have stopped himself from letting his jaw fall open and bringing one hand up to take Tim fully into his mouth at that.

One of Tim’s hands flew from Martin’s hair and Martin heard it slap over his mouth just in time to muffle Tim’s yelp. Martin felt pride blaze in his chest at the reaction and immediately set about seeing just how many noises he could get Tim to make.

Martin was sure that he looked a mess, hair disheveled from Tim’s hands and face red and mouth full of Tim’s cock. The litany of praise had stopped now, but Martin couldn’t bring himself to miss it. Not when Tim seemed to be coming apart at the seams, choking down screams and hips stuttering forward as he stopped himself from thrusting into Martin’s mouth. Martin didn’t think that he’d mind if Tim did decide to fuck his throat, but something warm and soft curled around his heart at the effort.

And then Tim’s hand was pulling against Martin’s hair, trying to draw him back. “Fuck, Martin—cumming, I’m—”

Martin sealed his lips around Tim’s cock and sucked as hard as he could.

Tim _screamed_ and the bitter warmth of cum filled Martin’s mouth, some of it spilling from his lips and onto Tim. Martin swallowed what was in his mouth and went to lap up what had fallen.

“F- _fuck,_ are you _trying_ to get me hard again?” Tim breathed out, voice rough and low. Martin ignored him for now, licking at any spot of cum he could find. Once he couldn’t see anymore, he pulled back from Tim and craned his neck back to look up at him.

Tim looked _wrecked,_ mouth curled up in a soft smile as his chest heaved. There was such an open expression of affection and warmth and—dare Martin think it— _awe_ on his face that Martin had to look away.

“Hey, hey,” Tim whispered, his hand sliding from Martin’s hair to cup at his jaw and turning him gently to look back up at Tim. “Don’t look away, beautiful. That was amazing. _You’re_ amazing.”

Martin closed his eyes and leaned into Tim’s touch, humming lightly. 

Tim’s thumb stroked over his cheekbone. “You wanna come back to my place for the night?”

Martin inhaled sharply but didn’t move away.

“I drove here,” Tim continued, “so you’d just have to sit there and look pretty for me for a bit. Shouldn’t be too hard, not for you. Not when you look the way you do.”

Martin squeezed his eyes tight for a moment. When he opened them again, he gazed up at Tim, his face full of hope and warmth and promises. Martin kept his eyes locked onto that expression and he nodded against Tim’s hand. “Y-yeah. Let’s—I’d like that.”

The grin that Tim gave at that was heady, greedy and sweet all in one. “Fucking brill.” Tim glanced down further. “You want any help with that?”

Martin followed Tim’s gaze down to where he was still hard. Martin swallowed shakily. It wasn’t that he didn’t want Tim to… _help,_ he just wasn’t sure how comfortable he was with doing it at the institute. He knew it was stupid—he’d _just_ blown Tim, for god’s sake—but stripping down here left him feeling uneasy.

“Um, k-kind of?” Martin admitted. “I definitely want to do, uh, _more,_ but m-maybe at yours?”

Tim’s grin widened. “Mhm, sounds good to me. Now, much as I absolutely adore having you on your knees, I really need to get my trousers back on before we leave.”

Martin laughed and leaned back, getting back up to his feet as Tim pulled his trousers up. When he was done, Tim reached out to take Martin’s hand in his, touch light and questioning. Martin wasted no time in lacing their fingers together. Tim flashed another grin at him.

“C’mon,” Tim said, pulling Martin along as he walked out of the room, “let’s get out of here.”

Martin smiled giddily the whole while.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Please leave kudos, comments, or bookmarks if the mood strikes you.


End file.
